Compensation
by Strange-How-Hard-It-Rains-Now
Summary: When Booth was in the army, he did something he has always felt guilty about, and has always wanted to compensate for. Slight BB. I think it is better than it sounds here. Please read and review! T to be safe.
1. Flashback

Disclaimer: Don't own Bones, wish I did. Don't sue me, danke! Also, there will be similarities in this chapter to a Kathy Reichs book, so all credit to her, both for Bones and that.

Author's note: Don't get all nitpicky on me here, I'll try to make it as realistic as possible, dates and locations-wise. It will get better later on. Read and Review!!

FLASHBACK—GUATAMALA (Booth's point of view)

My back ached from being crouched in the brush so long, and my finger trembled, always ready to squeeze the trigger should my target appear. My eyes, and ears were alert. Every muscle was tense. I was focused on the area below me, a thin valley in a hilly landscape, where a grandiose mansion was located. The mansion belonged to a key army official, completely corrupted, that was leading raids on small villages in, killing thousands of thousands of people over the span of five years. Last week, twenty American soldiers had been killed by one of this man's soldiers. It was my assignment to take him out of the picture forever.

There was genocide in Guatemala, the army and government completely corrupted. Our troops were trying to curb it, stop the loss of innocent lives. To do so, I had to take some very, very non-innocent lives. The fact that the people I sniped down, from hills, like now, or trees, and buildings were killers did not change how I felt. I knew I was doing what I had to do, but it didn't make it any worse. Just because I was killing the bad guys, didn't erase the fact that I was a killer myself.

On the other side of the hill I was perched on, there was another valley, in which was located a small village, one that had been raided at the start of the campaign of the army official which I was awaiting to arrive. It was abandoned, the survivors moving a few miles away, as far as they could go. It was a hilly landscape, and all the people were poor, and had no cars. They couldn't get far enough away to be safe. Raids still overtook the villages of survivors, making them relive the terror again and again.

Voices drifted from the valley of the abandoned village. There was a crew there conducting some sort of identification effort. They were pulling bodies, mostly skeletons, from wherever they had been thrown away by the soldiers during the raid. In deep ditches, covered by dirt, and wells. The soldiers often burned the bodies, and while people escaped death, they never buried their children, husbands, wives, parents, and friends. It was a graveyard in the village, and the people were valiant effort, but it was very dangerous. So far, nothing had happened to any of them, but we, the American troops, were wary. They shouldn't be there, the identification of bodies could wait. They would still be dead when the genocide was over.

A door opened in the mansion, and I realized my thoughts had been wandering. I reigned them in, and my eyes turned to slits as I tried to see if the person exiting was the person I needed to kill. It was not. I opened my eyes, and relaxed my trigger finger less than a centimeter. It was a low-ranking soldier, a killer, as those were the people that did the officials dirty work, but not my mission. Hopefully, one day, these killers would get what they deserved. Not today, not from me, but they must someday be punished. Maybe even by God himself.

I'm a Christian, I believe in God. I need to know there is something else beyond this, the killing and cruelty of the human life form. I need to pray, to ask for forgiveness for when I kill others. Often it is the only way I can get the lives I take off my conscience. God forgives, God is great. Sometimes I worry that even if I believe, even if I confess, that even killing another human being will condemn me to Hell. I still believe, though. I was raised a faithful Catholic, and will always be one.

Hearing footsteps coming up the hill, I closed my eyes and said a prayer. I knew it was the soldier, as my eyes had never left him, but I quietly slid my belly, my gun still aimed at the door of the mansion, as he passed. Weeds, and bushes covered me, but thorns tore at my skin, making it painful to settle into the grass. I held my breath as he walked by, seeing his powerful boots, and my eyes traveling up to the gun that hung on his belt. He didn't see me, but continued down the hill into the valley with the abandoned village. I remained on my belly, my rifle pointed at the door, one eye on it, and one eye on the soldier. The army official I was to shoot had said they would let the people identify those killed, but kept a close watch. They didn't want the people to learn too much.

In the eye that followed the soldier, I could see a woman crouched over a skeleton. He was approaching her, and I strained to see her face, but it was concealed by wavy brown hair. The woman was slender, with pale skin, slightly browned from working in the Guatemalan sun. I never saw her face, as when she arose, she was turned away from my field of peripheral vision, but the image of the woman has been affixed in my mind forever, because, as soon as the soldier approached, calling out to her, he took the boots I had watched passed me, and kicked her in the legs, knocking her off her feet.

The woman gasped, and opened her mouth to scream for someone to help her. At this point, the man grabbed her hair, and pulled her to him, whispering something as she struggled in his grasp. He slapped her across the face, kicking her. She bit him, fighting, giving it her all, but he had already started to drag her across the dirt, a handkerchief stuck in her mouth. He beat her as he dragged her. He would kill her, but I couldn't help. I had my mission, and it had to be completed, but my heart was breaking for the woman. I almost left, almost ran to help her, to save her life, but at that moment the door opened, and the army official stepped out.

I watched as he wandered to a clearing, never even foreseeing what was coming his way as he walked towards his car parked in the circular driveway. With one last glance at the woman being pulled away to her death, I made my choice. I refocused, closed on eye, and squeezed the trigger. With a slight pop, audible only to my own ears, he fell down dead. A bloodstain blossomed on his crisp white shirt.

Every soldier has two list which he adds notches to constantly. One list is the people he or she has killed by doing something, and the other is the people he or she has killed by doing nothing. That night, back in my tent, I put a notch on both lists. This slip of paper was a belt buckle of death. I folded it back up, and slid it in a notebook in a secret compartment in my bag. Afterwards, I fell to my knees and prayed.


	2. Early Morning Calls on a Rainy Day

Disclaimer-I don't own Bones…Bones characters, nada. Thanks!

CURRENT TIME

A phone rang somewhere, and I groaned aloud. It was very early, and the sun hadn't even seeped through the curtains. In fact, it was pitch black out. I struggled to open my eyes and leaned on one arm to grab my cell phone off the side table. Along with the high-pitched ring, it was vibrating, spinning around in mad circles.

I glanced at the glowing numbers on the clock. 6:15 AM. I didn't need to get up for another hour. I glanced at the caller ID. Bones. Why was she calling this early? I had planned to pick her up to interview a suspect at 9:00. Could whatever it was wait? Or…what if it couldn't? Was she hurt, unsafe? The sleepiness was affecting my mind, and I rushed to the worst conclusion. Taking a breath, I steadied myself, and flipped it open.

"Booth," I gave my typical greeting, but let it drip with irritation, and weariness. If it wasn't an absolute emergency, I'd make her feel guilty.

"Morning, its Brennan. Did I wake you? I'm sorry, I thought it was later than it was. I've been at the Jeffersonian for an hour, trying to get caught up on some paperwork…"

Her voice held the slightest tone of an apology, but that was the most that I'd get out of her. A part of me loved hearing her voice, waking up to her call. Sometimes I just wished…but no. She was my partner, a friend. Nothing more.

"Right, Bones. What do you want? Can't we talk later, I'm picking you up in three hours, about?"

Here, Bones cut me off.

"Its about that. Cam says I have to go to a meeting with someone today and I can't get out of it. So do the interview alone, I can't go."

I mentally slapped myself at the disappointment I felt that she would not be accompanying me. It shouldn't bother me, she'd most likely annoy me on the ride over, or we'd get in a stupid fight. Maybe it would be better to do the interview on a clear head today. For all my reasoning, I still felt the disappointment, creeping in a window whenever I shut a door to it.

"Right. Fine, Bones. Next time wait till the sun has thought about rising a little, okay? I'll see you later today. I'll drop by the Jeffersonian after lunch to tell you how the interview went. Good luck in your…meeting."

Bones said good-bye, and I clicked the phone off, glancing at the clock again. 7:30. I had wasted, or Bones had wasted fifteen minutes of decent sleeping time. Slumping back on my pillows, I threw my arm over my eyes, and in the darkness I imagined, just for a second, that Bones was lying next to me, and that we had just spoken face to face, instead of over the phone.

My earlier thoughts of the sun had been off track. As I slammed my car door closed to walk into the FBI building the sky was a dark gray, and rain was just starting to hit the top of my head. I walked quickly, throwing open a door just as it started to pour.

The security guard looked up and waved me through to the elevators. As the elevator ascended, I checked my watch. It was exactly the time I was supposed to arrive at work. 8:00 AM. In an hour I had to go to the interrogation room to interview a suspect in Bones' and I current case. I felt a dull pang knowing she wouldn't be watching me through the two-way mirror, wouldn't sit in the room with me when her expertise was needed.

As I arrived on my floor, the perky blonde secretary looked up. She had red manicured nails, and a thick southern accent. I saw the nails gently push a piece of paper over the magazine she had been reading, to hide it from view.

"Good mornin', Agent Booth!"

The lilt of her voice, and her cheerfulness was the way I always started my mornings. Usually, secretaries came and went, quickly, but this one had been here for a long while. I tended to like her better, as she was smart, cheerful, and good at her job, unlike some other people who had sat at that desk.

"Good morning, Natalie. Any messages for me today?"

Natalie smiled, and her teeth were gleaming white. Pretty girl, young as well. I felt as if this job was holding her back, and she had so much more potential than I secretary. I'd be sad to lose her, though. So would Cullen, probably, if he was the one keeping Natalie in her job.

"Yes, Agent Booth. Director Cullen would like to see you in his office at 8:30 AM. Its 8:15 now, so if you hurry you have time to go to your office, have some coffee," Natalie said.

I smiled at the eager young woman, and nodded. I was going to try and arrange for some sort of raise to be given to her. The last secretary had told me Cullen wanted to see me…after the scheduled time of the meeting. Natalie was an amazing improvement.

"Thanks Natalie."

"Have a good day, Agent Booth."

As I walked to my office, I stopped and filled a styrofoam cup of coffee, as Natalie suggested. It was piping hot, and I burned the roof of my mouth. Keeping it at my side, I wondered what Cullen wanted to talk to me about. The case? Most likely, I needed to gather the case folder in my office then, and I quickened my pace.

Entering my office, I opened a file folder and grabbed it, checking my watch. I had…two minutes. I walked very fast to Director Cullen's office, and before I knocked, he asked me to enter.

"Good morning, Booth."

"Hello, Director Cullen. About the case, I have to go interview a suspect in forty-five minutes, but I will be glad to answer whatever you have to talk about before then."

Cullen shook his head, and I felt my heart rate speed about. Had I done something wrong? Was I being punished? I was nervous, and needed to calm down.

"No, Booth. This meeting is not about the case, though, some other agent will be interviewing your suspect."

At this comment, I straightened up in my chair, my previous fear being turned into anger. This was MY CASE. The case Bones and I were working on together. What was Cullen doing?

"With all due respect, sir, this is my case. I would like to interview the subject."

"No, Booth, you are being taken off the case."

I felt my face pale, now my emotions being a mixture of fury and fear. What was happening? I could not remember one breach of protocol that either Bones or I had done. Cullen looked into my eyes, and leaned forward in his seat.

"Agent Booth, you will be leaving the FBI."

Author's note: WOAH! Cliffy. By the way, I forgot the name of the FBI building, and what Cullen's exact position was. Also, I think I need a beta reader, and someone to tell me what a beta reader IS. This is my first multi-chapter Bones fic. Thanks!! Please review!! As a little bribe…if you review my story, honestly, even flames are great, I will go and review yours. Also…you knooow you want to know why Booth is leaving the FBI. The more reviews, the quicker the update. Thanks!!


	3. A Mission

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones…just this story.

Author's Note: Okay, well…this is a replacement for chapter three, which was absolutely terrible. Hope this turns out a bit better! I might re-write the scene at the café, or I may have Booth tell Bones in a different way. Check back and see! Oh, and review. Thanks! Oh, and PS: Any opinions included in this chapter, or the story regarding the Iraq war, or war in general, are Booth's and Booth's alone. I may share these believe, or I may not. I don't want it to turn into a political debate.

"Agent Booth, you will be leaving the FBI."

I gasped, inwardly, toying with the material of my pants, nervously. This announcement, spoken in such a clear, strict tone left no room for complaints, or anger. That was why I needed to collect myself, think before I spoke. The room was silent, and it was strange and unsettling. An explanation should have followed such a declaration. A shiver ran up my spine, and I realized I might be receiving some sort of test. My blood was boiling from shock, and fury, but this was not the time for an emotional outburst. I sat up straight, fixing my tie with one hand before folding them in my lap.

"I understand, sir, though I will need an explanation before I will leave this building. The FBI has been my life, and I need to understand why I am being fired."

My words rung out in the office, almost as nonchalant as Cullen's, and the director nodded. His eyes held remorse, approval, and a note of something else, which almost looked like pride. The pride unsettled me. If I had done something worth of being fired, he should not be proud of me just because I managed to muster up a dignified response. Hope glimmered inside of me, for a second, and I fixed my eyes on my deputy director as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Agent Booth, you are not being fired. I am sorry I needed to startle you in such a way, but it was necessary. I needed to be sure I am making the right decision. You're response showed me that I am. You're a good agent, Booth."

Apprehension was growing within me, coming in a wave after the feeling of relief washed over me. I was glad I was not being fired, but there was something else I had to do, something that was making Cullen show more emotion than he usually ever does. I adjusted my tie again, letting my fingers slip over the silk. It was brightly colored, as I liked them, but in the silence and light of the office, it seemed garish and ugly. I muttered a thank-you for the compliment, but Cullen's face did not change. He was serious, business-like, and he continued talking.

"Booth, you should know better than anyone what it is like when a country is at war. War times mean sacrifices, on all parts. You have been requested by a top official to travel to Iraq, and use your skills as a sniper to assist the United States military in a few key missions. You will leave within the week, and your tour will last a year. After that, you will be welcomed back into your position with the FBI. Will you go?"

The question that Cullen asked was not an offer, I could not refuse, and my heart and mind were torn in two. When I had been a sniper in the military before, I was a single boy, carefree and ready to do anything my country asked of me. Now I was a man with a child, a beautiful child, and a life that I had established. Yet, the flag of my country was the backdrop to my life, enveloping my child, keeping him safe, and covering my life. I was passionate about the United States, and I would die for it. I would welcome this chance to defend my homeland one last time.

"Yes sir, I will."

My words were simple, but conveyed so much meaning. They meant a year in a hot, sandy desert. They meant a finger squeezing a trigger, and a back aching from crouching. They meant bloodstains, and tears. A memory of a brown haired woman flooded back into me, one who struggled back in another war torn country, but I didn't defend. This image brought another one, of a different brown-haired, beautiful woman. This time, I would defend her.

As I stood up to leave, and had shaken Cullen's hand, I turned to him, speaking slowly, evenly. I did not want any passion to be conveyed in the words I spoke. That would give the wrong message. I did not want Cullen to think I wanted a protector for my lover. I wanted him to think I wanted a protector for my friend and partner. That's what Bones was, a friend and partner, whether that was what I wanted or not.

"Sir, while I am on my tour I expect Dr. Brennan will be given a new, temporary partner?"

I stressed the word temporary, and held his eyes while I asked. This was important to me, and I needed him to acknowledge that she would be looked after, be taken care of. I knew she had so much fight within her, but everyone needs a little help, especially in her dangerous job. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't anymore, and I needed someone to do that. I did not want someone to take my place, which might break me apart.

"She will be taken care of, Agent Booth. You are dismissed for the rest of the week, and I hope to see you in a year. Good-luck, and Good-bye Agent Booth."

The words were very final, very stiff, but Cullen's eyes held worry, and affection. I nodded, and said good-bye, walking out of the office. I was sure of myself, and not at the same time. I was doing the right thing, but I was leaving so much behind. Parker, and Bones were the two most important people in my life, and I would not see them for a year. I was leaving, possibly forever.

As I passed the desk of Natalie the secretary, she smiled up at me, asking some question about how my meeting went, and if she could do anything for me. I shook my head, and answered her questions, not revealing I was leaving, but wondering whether there would be a different secretary when I returned.

I smiled, and said good-bye to Natalie, reflecting on the life of a secretary as I walked on. I knew she had a small son, and briefly wondered if it was difficult making ends meet, a secretary was not the best job. She could do so much better, even if she was good at her job.

I turned around, pulling my wallet out of my pocket, and pulled a good-sized wad of bills out of it, and placed them in front of Natalie, who looked at me like a fish out of water. I smiled at her, and said good-bye, then left the Hoover building, possibly for good.

A secretary is thankless job, with tedious work, and not much pay. If I was not to return, and could not officially say good-bye to anyone I was close to, there had to be some measure of an ending. I was not scared of death, but I was scared of what I would leave behind, what memory people would have of me. If there was any last act I could've committed with the FBI, giving a gift to a secretary is it. Sometimes the people that did not have the largest paycheck, or were not the most important needed the most attention and help. I knew this from experience.

As I pulled past the Hoover building, squinting up at it, I thought of Cullen, and then I thought of Natalie, pocketing the money, thinking of what she could buy her son with it. She would spend it on her son, I knew. After thinking of Natalie, I did not look back at the building. I would be fine if I never came back to it. Closure with a company, and basic strangers is good, but I had a harder task. There were living breathing people who I had to go talk to now, and I was scared of what would happen with them. You cannot close the door on loved ones. It is left wide open so, if there comes a time of tragedy, the pain can flood in. Thinking of Bones, and Parker in pain, I winced, and made a decision. No matter what, I would not die, and would return to them again.

AUTHORS NOTE: Okay, a little all over the place, but it is way, way better than my first try at the third chapter, and it makes everything a bit more clear. Review please!


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